I Won't Look Back
by Fenris's Slytherin Princess
Summary: Harry goes for a midnight read, and stumbles across a situation that he never thought he'd ever see.


The library was silent; not a single soul occupied it's dusty, dank shelves. It was quite an odd sight, however, when one soul _did _turn up at midnight. Harry Potter. His invisibility cloak was fastened around his shoulders, though he had to stand in dark corners other wise people would see his slippered feet. He kept having to fix his glasses as he tried to push open the library door ever so quietly, because it took all his strength not to make a noise. His wand poked through his cloak as he tiptoed through the eerie room. He found the small fiction section of the library, and prayed to whoever was out there that these few shevles existed. There was a small table by the fiction section and Harry usually sat there when he came to read after the War. But wait? Harry heard, what was that? Breathing? Crying? More like snivelling, in all honesty, but the fact that a sound was present intrigued him to infinity. He stepped around the corner with such deft that he vowed to congratulate himself at a later date. A mop of silver-blond hair met his eyes first. Then large, muscular shoulders, hunched over in an arch. Then the silk black dressing gown, and plain white trainers, which, as Harry assumed, doubled as slippers. Then Harry noticed a hand through the hair. A man's hand. Man? Maybe... A loud sniffle came from the figure, and Harry jumped. Luckily, he hadn't taken his cloak off, and decided to put his wand away. The person had an oil lamp on the desk, and he appeared to be writing something. Writing? So it was a diary? Interesting. Harry didn't really want to sneak up on the person- that would be dishonest- so he hid behind a shelf, took his cloak off and wrapped it up in his dressing gown pocket, and chose a book. He didn't mask any noises, as he didn't want to startle the boy. He chose 'Alice in Wonderland', a muggle book that Hermione had slipped in after the War. Harry cleared his throat, and slipped into a chair next to the boy- Draco?! _Crying?! _What on Earth... Harry flicked open the book, and began reading, trying to ignore how odd this whole situation was. "Go away," Draco stuttered from under his breath. The library was freezing cold, and the air in his words hung like ice in the tension-filled room.  
"I want to read, and I always sit here." Harry protested, though not as fiercely as he would have usually protested, as Draco was crying. Why? Urgh, that bothered him.  
"I come here every night, Potter," Draco spat through his fast-flowing tears, "you don't always come here." His silver eyes flashed between the book Harry was reading, and what he was writing.  
Harry cleared his throat, "what are you writing?"  
"Sod _off, _Potter." Draco managed, picked up his quill again, and began scrawling neatly. Harry watched for a moment, and then went back to his book. Over the holidays, Harry had seen an old film of Alice in Wonderland, and that helped his imagination as he read. Still, reading was Hermione's thing.  
"I'm not leaving," Harry said, without looking over the top of his book.  
"I figured," Draco frowned, and wiped his eyes with his silk sleeve. The ink he was using was a high quality brand, and the colour was a dark green. Harry thought he'd seen it at Hermione's flat, and perhaps he had; Hermione spent more money of stationary than most. After five minutes of writing and reading, Draco slammed his quill down, and glared at Harry with burning passion. "What the hell are you still doing here, Potter? I _clearly _don't want you here, and there are hundreds more secret spots in the grounds for you to sneak about in! Why stay in mine?"  
Harry put Alice in Wonderland down on his lap slowly, at looked at Draco with a concerned pout. "Before the War, you'd just jinx me if you wanted me gone."  
"People change," Draco said, anger seeping out of his shoulders as he relaxed into the soft chair he was sat on.  
"Which is why I'm staying," Harry concluded, "and besides, you're clearly upset about something, and I don't trust anyone to be alone when they're crying."  
Draco rose carefully, keeping his watery eyes fixed upon Harry. Walking a few feet towards Harry, Draco rolled his shoulders, and his dressing gown slipped down slightly. "Stand up," Draco's voice was quivering, and not because he'd been crying.  
Harry stood up, his legs wobbling, and his hand tightening around his wand. "Wh-What are you doing?" Harry asked nervously, as Draco grabbed the front of Harry's standard Gryffindor dressing gown.  
Clutching the crimson cotton in his fists, Draco whispered, "this." The Slytherin kissed the Gryffindor so passionately that the pair nearly toppled over. Draco grabbed Harry around the waist, and carried on kissing. Much to Harry's surprise, he kissed back. In fact, as far as the friction in his jeans was telling him, he was really enjoying it.  
He let the slightly taller boy kiss him until his lips felt sore, and then he pulled away. "Uh," his eyes widened, and he started to palm the invisibility cloak, "I'm just gonna-" Without finishing, Harry turned and ran, and didn't ever look back.


End file.
